


My Letter to You

by nightfalltwen



Series: The Abroad Saga [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-09
Updated: 2012-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:19:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightfalltwen/pseuds/nightfalltwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years spent away from England, Zacharias Smith comes across a photograph that inspires him to reconnect with an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Letter to You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2008 **harry_holidays** fic exchange as a gift for **tarotemp**. Again, liberties taken with the country of Norway.

_24 December 2008_

There was a total of seventy-two ceiling tiles in Zacharias' office ceiling laid out in a grid of eight tiles by nine tiles. Each of these seventy two tiles was a foot square which meant that his office was exactly eight feet by nine feet. Except he'd actually taken the time to measure the walls and noticed that one of them was slanted just slightly making his office space at floor level only eight feet by eight feet and eleven and a half inches.

Normally on Christmas eve, he wasn't expected to be in his crooked little office, but Zacharias had no place else to go and he was putting off going home. Three times his assistant, Astrid, had come in to tell him that he did, in fact, have permission from the Minister to leave and that she was only staying because her husband was working late and would be picking her up at nine.

Looking at the clock, Zacharias puffed out his cheeks and got up from the chair he'd reclined in order to count the ceiling tiles for the eighteenth time that evening. He grabbed his robe off it's hook and left.

Astrid had taken it upon herself to snag up his latest copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and was finishing the crossword that he'd started. She chewed on the end of a quill and wrote something in thirteen-down.

"Goodnight, Astrid," he said and double wrapped his muffler around his neck. "Tell your kids Happy Christmas for me."

"I will. Try and enjoy your holiday, Mr Smith," she replied, looking up at him concerned.

Zacharias shrugged. Her concern was expected. He'd been on the receiving end of such looks for a few days now. Especially once people started disappearing from the department for their holidays and he'd remained behind. Sliding his arms into the sleeves of his robe, Zacharias began walking toward the lift. He looped his old yellow and black scarf around his neck. Why he kept the scarf, Zacharias didn't know. Perhaps, in a small way, it was to remind himself that once he belonged to a loyal group of friends.

With a soft ping, the doors to the lift opened. Pansy Parkinson stepped out, tediously pulling each finger from her glove as she did so. If looks could kill... and before Zacharias realised what had happened, she slapped him -- _hard_ \-- across the face.

"What the _fuck_ , Parkinson?" Zacharias shouted, his hand covered the spot she had just attacked.

Pansy glowered at him. " _That_ , Smith, is for being one of the biggest idiots I have known since Crabbe and Goyle."

*~*~*~*

_1 December, 2008_

The wind blowing through Norway's Hardangerfjord tossed Zacharias Smith's hair about as he tried to spot the Snitch. Why he had agreed to spending hours out in the blistering cold instead of doing paperwork in his nice, warm office, he couldn't figure out. But Theodore Nott just had this way of making something seem a lot more appealing than it actually was, a trait of Slytherin it seemed, so Zacharias had agreed. The Norwegian Ministry of Magic was putting together a couple of teams for some interoffice games in the spring. All the Chaser spots had been filled on the English-speaking team, so with a lot of pushing on Nott's part, Zacharias had signed up to try out for the Seeker position.

Which was easier said than done.

Theodore came from below, like a bullet, and knocked Zacharias from his broom. With a frustrated shout, he fell fifteen feet into the icy water below. Warming and special insulating charms on his clothing kept the hypothermia at bay for brief periods of time, but didn't stop it all together.

Theodore was hovering above him when Zacharias' head broke the surface of the water. He held a gloved hand out. "You're going to have to keep your eyes open, Smith or you're never going to make Seeker at this point."

"Well it would be a helluva lot easier if you didn't keep knocking me into the fjord every chance you got. It is fucking cold, if you hadn't realised!" Zacharias slapped the water with his hand for emphasis before taking a hold of Theodore's outstretched arm and hefting himself back onto his broom. "I'm done. I never said I was a good Seeker anyhow. If they don't take me as is, then that's their problem. And if they do? Well..." He shrugged.

The Norwegians were going to clobber them.

Flicking his wet hair out of his eyes, Zacharias pulled his wand from the inside pocket of his jacket to charm it dry before it froze. With a slow loop, the two men flew back toward shore.

Zacharias hadn't always worked for the Norwegian Ministry of Magic. His first position had been as a undersecretary for the International Magical Trading Standards Body in England. It had been alright for a spell. But when the hoopla for the war and its heroes had died down, the Ministry was soon flooded with Zacharias' former classmates. Students that remembered him leaving. That remembered he did not fight. Not one of them asked why. They only whispered.

_He was such a coward. Did you see him run?_

_Some loyal Hufflepuff, right?_

When the opportunity came up for an English-speaking liaison to the Norwegian Ministry of Magic, Zacharias jumped at the opportunity. His superiors, who had noticed the hostility surrounding one of their stronger employees, had no issue with letting him go. They were prepared to sacrifice productivity for harmony. Zacharias was told before he left that once things calmed down in England he was free to return to the British Ministry. There was always a place for him.

That was eight years ago.

"Are you two quite finished bashing around out there like a pair of Neanderthals? Because I am chilled to the bone." Pansy Parkinson, only daughter to the Parkinson family, stood on the cliff where Zacharias and Theodore had left their things.

The two men landed and Theodore strode over to the petite young woman tapping her expensive shoe on the hardened ground. He swept his robe about her and leaned down to whisper something in her ear. It was most likely about sex or something just as equally "too much information." Zacharias ignored them and went to put away his gear. Pansy and Theodore came as a package deal. Acquaintance with one? Mildly tolerated by the other.

It was alright. Not the sort of camaraderie he remembered from school, but at least they weren't shunning him.

Theodore Nott's story was similar to Zacharias'. He had faced similar hostility and rejection from his peers. Having stood on neutral ground during the final battle between Potter and the Dark Lord, Theodore did not seem to be welcomed by either side. The good guys thought he was a fraud and the bad guys renounced him as a traitor. From what Zacharias had gleaned from his conversations with the Slytherin, was that most of Theodore's time had been spent abroad, returning once to England when the shocking news of Draco Malfoy's marriage to the younger of the two Greengrass sisters broke around the country. The society page in the Prophet speculated pregnancy and what Muggles called a shotgun wedding. Zacharias suspected that Astoria just made a better beard for the quite _obviously_ homosexual Malfoy heir than Pansy, who was (after all) rather opinionated and certainly wouldn't take to being just an excuse.

He liked that assumption. It gave him something to argue about with Parkinson.

Hefting the broom across his shoulder, Zacharias turned to face the other two. "Back to the grindstone, yeah?" he asked before apparating back to the Ministry.

He was met with paperwork.

"Your ten-thirty is here, Mr Smith, he'd like to be seen as soon as possible." Astrid Jørgensen, quite possibly the most efficient personal assistant in the entire country, placed a large Manila folder into Zacharias' hand. "I told him that appointments are scheduled for a reason and sent him to wait in the lobby, but he's very insistent." She turned and walked backwards, holding out a letter to Theodore, who had appeared mere seconds after Zacharias. "This arrived while you were out, Mr Nott. The messenger said it was an important request regarding the Princess Ingrid and that they'd need to hear back from you before the day is out."

Theodore was already reading the letter and turning down toward his office before Astrid had finished speaking. Parkinson followed him. Letters from the monarchy took top priority in Theodore's office. What most people did not realise is that the House of Oldenburg was a branch from a very old Wizarding family that could trace its roots back further than any family in Europe. This made it difficult for the royal family, as the King was charged with being Secret Keeper for a nation within his nation and Harold V had done so since his coronation in 1991. As of late, the king had taken ill and arrangements were being made for Crown Prince Haakon to take over the secret. It was a delicate procedure to transfer a secret of such magnitude and the Ministry was working carefully to keep everything running smoothly.

Theodore Nott's jurisdiction fell to the children, making sure their magical outbursts were covered properly, arranging the extensive paperwork it took to send them to the right school. The Princess was only four, but the wheels had been in motion since before she was born.

Astrid continued to walk backwards toward Zacharias' office and speaking while she did so. Something she said was from some American show about the government that she'd seen on the telly years ago. She called it her walking corridor conversation... Or something. Zacharias couldn't quite remember.

"I've also had the Daughters of the Vikings send word that they wish to have someone enjoyable at their annual luncheon. The Minister decided that it was going to be you this year. They had some rather vocal complaints about the young man sent last year."

Zacharias grimaced. It wasn't that he disliked the DOVs but he didn't relish having to spend an afternoon with elderly witches wearing war helmets with horns. Before he could respond to Astrid's information she was opening the door to his office and taking his robe to hang it on the hook behind the door.

"Also? Your copy of the _Daily Prophet_ arrived while you were out. I didn't do the crossword." She held up her hand as if swearing in court. "I promise."

Zacharias smiled and thumbed through the Manila folder she'd given him. "Thanks Astrid. You're perfection disguised as a normal woman." He turned toward his chair and tossed the forms that needed his approval stamp onto his desk. "Oh and tell my ten-thirty, that I will see him at ten-thirty."

Once she'd closed the door behind her, Zacharias plopped down in his large chair and kicked his feet up to rest on the corner of the desk. He grabbed the paper and flipped through the articles. It was pretty much all the same old thing. Harry Potter this, Harry potter that, Ministry bungles a new resolution, blah, blah, blah. Really the only reason why Zacharias had it sent to him was for the crossword and some vague sense that if he kept the _Prophet_ attached to him somehow, he'd never really just left everything behind.

When he got to the last page, Zacharias' feet slipped off the desk and hit the floor with a heavy thunk. There at the top of the page was an article about recent renovations to the Leaky Cauldron. The photograph accompanying it was what surprised Zacharias. Standing off to the side was Hannah Abbott while her ... _husband_ , one Mr Neville Longbottom, according to the article flashed grins to the camera. Zacharias frowned. He never claimed to be an expert on body language, but when photo-Neville put his arm around photo-Hannah, her entire body went stiff and she didn't appear to be enjoying herself.

Hannah Abbott had been the only one to remain in semi contact with him since the final battle. Every year for about five years, she sent him both a birthday and Christmas card. Zacharias, at the time, had felt it was just her sense of obligation to him as a Hufflepuff that kept her going. The first year she had done so, he'd opened the cards and read the long letters that she'd written. Spoken in a general manner as if she was addressing everyone. One of those "Dear Everyone" letters. Soon he started tossing the cards away and by the fifth year, he decided that she really didn't need to try anymore, so he sent the birthday card she'd sent back to her and that last Christmas card. Unopened. None came after that.

Gently tearing the photo from the back page, Zacharias wrote a note and folded the two pieces of paper together, placing them in an envelope. He left his office and handed it to Astrid. "Make sure this gets out with the post," he said without explanation.

"Yes, sir."

*~*~*~*

_13 December, 2008_

Zacharias did not receive his owls at home. His owls, as directed by the International Wizarding Postal Authority, were routed to his office because he did not wish to be contacted at his home. That and he spent the majority of his time at work, so owls were more likely to reach him at his office than at his home. Such an arrangement also made it easier on the Muggles in the area. He didn't have to worry about panicked neighbours calling Animal Control because some wild owl had started nesting in his front stoop or on his windowsill.

So it was understandable that Zacharias was baffled that there was a rather fat Barn Owl sitting next to his front window. The animal wasn't particularly intelligent either, turning to peck at the glass with its beak when it was obvious that there was no one inside.

"Stupid bird. I'm going to kill Parkinson," he muttered, shoving his hands deeper into his pocket.

It was a natural to assume that Pansy had sent the letter through some back alley channels, just to tick him off. She liked doing that. Just like she enjoyed belittling his neighbourhood or screwing her little nose up at his choice of clothing. Theodore was tolerable. His long-time fiancée, on the other hand, tended to get under Zacharias' skin. Not that he hated her, in fact it was terribly amusing to continuously poke fun. She'd wrinkle her nose at his menu selection and he would slurp his soup. Not loudly, he wasn't that impolite, but just enough to make her toe start tapping. A sure fire sign that she was starting to become vexed.

Behind him church bells started to peal.

It was then that Zacharias noticed the huddled form on his front step. Owl on his windowsill and a person waiting for him. Even after ten years it still brought up strong suspicions. So slowly Zacharias reached into the inside pocket of his coat and took out his wand. He didn't like being surprised by people and found it entirely too suspicious that anyone would want to seek him out.

They all hated him after all.

Balancing his wand on his forearm, Zacharias approached the figure. " _God Kveld_?" He called out. Then in English. "Good Evening?"

The figure raised its head and rubbed its eyes. In the dark Zacharias couldn't tell if it was male or female. Until she spoke.

"Zach? Is that you?"

He lowered his wand and shoved it back into his coat. Her voice was as familiar as just about everything he knew and remembered from England. Hannah Abbott. Scratch that. Hannah Longbottom, wasn't it? Zacharias' stomach turned over about four times before settling as a floodgate of memories and actual good times (funny, he still had some of those left) came crashing back. Late night parties, cheering for Cedric, Announcing Quidditch matches. All those school memories that he'd kept locked up for ages.

Damnit.

"Hannah, excuse my language, but what the bloody fuck are you doing sitting on my doorstep at night in freezing cold temperatures?"

"I had to s-see you." Hannah wrapped her arms around herself. Even in the dark, he could tell that her lips were tinged blue. Hannah never did have a strong constitution for the winter temperatures. "I d-didn't expect you to be g-gone s-so l-long. Or for it t-t-to be this c-cold."

"It's Norway, Hannah. In December." Zacharias fumbled for his keys and opened the door. 

He wasn't about to stand out in the front of his building carrying on a conversation with her when there were heated rooms inside. He held the door open and gestured for her to go ahead. She didn't answer him. Perhaps she was insulted at his comment. He'd not meant for it to come out as though he thought she was stupid. He knew that she wasn't. But Zacharias didn't exactly know what else to say. Once inside, he went and got some water on the stove for tea and offered her a blanket, charmed warm, to wrap around her torso. It wasn't the best solution for hypothermia, but he wasn't about to have them both strip down and curl up together.

She'd only just got there.

*~*

"I'm sorry that I didn't write ahead." Hannah's fingers curled around the warm mug. She set it down and stretched over to reach for her jacket. She pulled out a crinkled piece of paper. She held it out to Zacharias. "You sent all my other letters back so I wasn't sure if you'd even read what I wrote. That's not it."

He unfolded the piece of paper and turned it over. It was the photograph of her and Neville that he'd sent her at the beginning of the month. Everything was too confusing. The owl on his windowsill had just been sent so that she could find his house. She'd refused to answer the question of what if he'd gone on holiday and not been scheduled to return until after Christmas.

"You're the only one who's noticed, Zach," she said. "You wrote and asked why I didn't look happy. It's because I'm not. Neville and I have separated, permanently, except he asked if we'd wait until after the holidays to tell everyone. So it's all fake smiles and avoiding the direct questions."

"And you came to tell me in person?"

She wrung her hands and looked as though she was about to say something different from what actually came from her mouth. "I wanted to see if you were well."

Zacharias knew she wasn't being honest. He might have been ten years away from any Hufflepuff and generally interacted mostly with Slytherins, but he knew her far better than she probably thought he did. And she was lying. In that kind of way where one doesn't tell the whole truth. Just enough to make things seem plausible. He could take the omissions from Theodore and Pansy. It was in their nature to keep things to themselves. But Hannah had never been anything but honest to him. Sometimes to a point where it came across as scolding.

"I am well." Zacharias shrugged and finished the tea in his cup, setting it down on his coffee table. He figured that he'd give her a little time before asking her the question again. "I suppose you might as well tell me what everyone has been up to."

Hannah smiled. It lit up her face completely and Zacharias realised for a moment that he'd actually missed the way it did that. "Susan's got a family now. She got married to that Ravenclaw, Terry Boot, while abroad in Japan last Christmas. Met and eloped over the course of about three days. Shocked the hell out of a lot of us. You know Susan; she was never one to take major risks, but Terry absolutely adores her and they just _fit_. She just had a baby girl." Hannah turned the cup in her hands. "Oh she's the sweetest little thing in the world."

She continued. "Justin's still across the pond. He's got a boyfriend in Toronto that he's wildly in love with and owns a gallery in some trendy area of town. You remember how he liked to paint?"

"I always wondered if he'd come back to England. Guess that's answered my question."

"And Ernie's a junior Minister. He comes by the Leaky to visit, but he's normally so busy that I don't get to talk to him very much."

Zacharias turned his head and looked at the window so she wouldn't see his frown. Ernie Macmillan had been one of Zacharias' closest friends. But that night at the school, that night when he'd left instead of staying to fight, he'd lost Ernie. Zacharias could remember passing Ernie in the corridor at the Ministry and how he wouldn't even look him in the eye. Sometimes it was easier to ignore that which hurt you the most.

"Can't say I'm surprised, Hannah. Ernie was always one of those guys who was going to go somewhere."

"I know."

Zacharias turned around and looked at her with his eyebrows raised. "So. Now that we've got all that out of the way, how about you tell my why you really came."

"Y-you're a friend. I came to visit with you," Hannah said slowly. Almost practised. As if she was trying to convince herself as well as him.

"Bullshit." Zacharias crossed the room and plunked down on the opposite end of the sofa. "I'm sorry, Hannah, but a person doesn't go for ten years being hated by all his former friends for something he couldn't control only to just let them waltz back into his life without questioning it."

Hannah's eyes welled up and she started to do that rapid blinking thing to hold back tears. Immediately Zacharias felt guilty for saying what he'd just said. For a long time he'd convinced himself that he didn't care what everyone else had thought of him. That he'd had his reasons and since most people had chosen to hate instead of demand an explanation, he figured he was better off without any of them. Suddenly he wasn't so sure about that.

"I never hated you, Zach," said Hannah firmly, keeping the waver in her voice to a minimum. "You're the one who cut off contact with me. You sent back my letters and cards. You never wrote. You never visited the Leaky. You never smiled at anyone. You _let_ them hate you. For protecting your sister!"

Zacharias opened his mouth, but found he couldn't counter anything that she had said. His shoulder's dropped. "You knew?"

"Of course I knew about her. Anastasia's first year was the only thing you talked about on the train ride up in our sixth year. She was Sorted into Ravenclaw just before.... Before my mum... Before I left. And when Dumbledore's Army was called... I saw you leave with her." She raised her eyebrows. "Alright, yes, you did push aside another first year to get to her, which wasn't very nice. But you were looking out for your sister, which is commendable."

For Zacharias it had always been easier when people hated him because he could hate them all right back. They all made their assumptions of him, especially the Potter crowd. Anastasia had always been his top priority. She wouldn't have fled, something for which his parents would have never forgiven him, had he not gone with her, but in going with her, he'd condemned himself to scorn. Hufflepuff, by all rights, should have been proud of him because he'd remained steadfast and loyal to his family.

"I've been an idiot, haven't I?"

Hannah smiled and reached across the space between them to place her hand on his knee, giving it a pat. "Yes you have and you would've known sooner had you not sent back my letters unopened. In any case, you can start to make it up to me by letting me kip down on your sofa and then show me around your new home."

*~*~*~*

_20 December, 2008_

The week that followed Hannah's arrival had been somewhat filled with exploring. They'd spent a day up beyond the arctic circle to see the Kirkenes Snow Hotel and Zacharias almost had one of the ice glasses filled with vodka stick to his lips. Hannah had come to his rescue, finding someone with a warm drink to melt away the ice. He still had to work, of course, and he did actually feel a little bad that she'd spent those days sitting in the waiting room. Astrid didn't seem to mind, the two chatting about England and how Zacharias never liked people starting his crosswords even though he had no problem with people finishing them.

"She's just what you needed, Mr Smith," Astrid had said one day as she picked up the files he had finished.

Zacharias was inclined to agree. He realised now that he'd sorely missed having good friends in his life. Hannah really did bring all of that back. Infectious laughter. Playful shoving. He even broke out his tattered deck of Exploding Snap cards, a game which is all the more hilarious to play when one has had a few (or more) drinks. When he'd told Astrid all of that she shook her head with a laugh, leaving him in his office, quite perplexed.

"I still can't believe that you're chummy with a couple of Slytherins," Hannah said as she reclined on his sofa, her legs thrown over his lap.

"Eh," Zacharias shrugged, "I suppose they're not so bad once you get used to them. Parkinson's kind of a cow, but as long as you ignore what she says and dish it right back... "

Hannah laughed, her whole body shaking. "I'm sorry, but you used to say _Slytherins will always be bad and would never be possible to get used to them._ Verbatim." She sat up, reaching over to prod his side with her finger. "You even had it written on the inside of your Potions textbook."

Hannah swung her legs off his lap and shifted around on the sofa so she was closer to him. Zacharias thought of the long study nights in Hufflepuff where everyone sat on each other's laps, pouring over books and notes, passing around bottles of Butterbeer and generally having a good time. The two of them had fallen into a very comfortable familiarity since she'd arrived. Zacharias didn't look twice at the bra drying in his shower or say anything about how his kitchen cupboard was rearranged (the latter change made a whole heck of a lot of sense. He'd always wondered where those tins of sardines had gone!).

"You sure do remember a lot about me Hannah-Banana."

She craned her neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You're actually a difficult person to forget."

Maybe it was the last seven days and the fact that she was always so open with her affection towards others. Maybe it was the glass of wine at dinner. Maybe it was the lights on the Christmas tree that she'd insisted he drag into his flat, getting pine needles all over his carpet. Maybe it wasn't any of those things and was just a really dumb idea that he didn't say no to. 

Maybe it was all of the above.

So he turned his head and kissed her.

And this wasn't just a friendly on-the-cheek, _hello, I'm your friend_ kind of thing. Somewhere in his head he heard a voice say 'fuck it' and the next thing he knew his hand was cupping the back of her neck and he was pulling her close and his lips took possession of hers, slanting across them as though he'd kissed her a thousand times before and knew just how he was supposed to kiss her. Hannah fit against him perfectly as if everything had been pre-designed.

A small part of him tried to think rationally about this. It had only been seven days, but suddenly none of that mattered. Because her arms went around his neck and she was kissing him back.

It was all heart racing and lips and tongues and hands buried in hair. It was everything a passionate kiss, which was really more of a full out snog, was supposed to be. There was even music. Granted it was carollers outside on the sidewalk, but there was music!

Zacharias kissed his way down Hannah's neck, nudging aside her blouse because she had these little freckles on her shoulder that he'd only seen once when they were fourteen and it was a Hogsmeade weekend and she was wearing a sundress that had little blue flowers on it. How those details stuck in his head, he didn't know, but he knew there had been freckles. And so desperately wanted to see them again. Her hands bunched in the back of his shirt and somehow she'd managed to climb onto his lap which was creating all manner of delicious pressure.

Hang friendship. He didn't want her friendship. Zacharias wanted more. 

Somehow she managed to twist around, still allowing him to nip gently at the junction of her neck and shoulder. She began to kiss her way up towards his ear. He could feel her warm breath on his skin and that excited him far more than he thought it ever could. It was perfect and wonderful and she was doing something with the tip of her tongue that made a groan catch in the back of his throat.

"I love you," she whispered. Barely a breath of a sound passing between them.

Zacharias froze. Literally froze. And the real world just swamped him. This was Hannah. Hannah whom he'd known since she was eleven. Hannah who was far more complicated than anyone expected her to be. This was Hannah. And there was no way. Absolutely no way that she'd... 

"Hannah stop."

She lifted her head, Zacharias wanted to capture those swollen lips once again. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No. Yes. No!" Zacharias held his hands away because if he kept them near her, he'd only end up going back to her curves and he sincerely thought that he wouldn't be able to stop after that. "We can't do this. You're married."

A frown appeared on her face. " _Separated_ , Zach."

"Separated isn't divorced and what you said... You can't really... Is that what you thought I wanted to hear?" He turned his head. She really needed to get off his lap. "You don't love me."

" _Don't_ " Hannah's voice turned sharp as if everything between them had just spun around a hundred and eighty degrees. "Tell me what I feel, Zach. You don't know anything. You've been happily hiding out over here in Norway and you don't know anything."

This had gone all arse-backwards on him. One minute he was enjoying a pretty brilliant snog with an equally brilliant woman and now they were arguing about it and oh why wouldn't she get off his lap? It wasn't that he didn't have feelings for Hannah. She was beautiful and wonderful and he certainly enjoyed the kissing, but she'd only been back in his life for seven days and she _loved_ him? It made no sense.

Not that women tended to make a lot of sense in the first place.

"Look, Hannah," he started. She climbed off his lap and crossed her arms, her face turning almost red in anger. "I've liked having you around and all, but this... You've got a _life_ in England and..."

She cut him off. "And you call all of this a life for yourself? Work and home? Home and work? That's it? Zach I came all the way here because I hoped.... I wanted to... Oh never mind." She got up from the sofa. "Forget that I even stopped by!"

The next thing that he heard was the bathroom door slam shut.

Zacharias got up from the sofa feeling equally aroused and dejected. In a fit of frustration, he kicked the edge of the coffee table then promptly started hopping on one foot, biting back a number of curses. He limped angrily to his room and shut the door. Things would cool down by morning and then they could have a proper talk about what had just happened.

That opportunity never came.

The next morning, Zacharias exited his room and went straight for the kitchen to start the kettle. He found hot water already waiting for him. When he wandered out into the living room, cuppa in hand, he noticed that Hannah's blankets were already folded neatly, but that she and her things were nowhere in sight. Everything was cold and empty. She'd left before he got up. Not a word of goodbye or a chance for him to apologise for the night before, to explain that he didn't want to ruin things and that maybe there was still a chance for her marriage.

He was angry. How dare she? How _dare_ she just waltz back into his life and rekindle their friendship only to take it away from him? It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. With a growl, Zacharias hurled his mug at the wall. It exploded in a shower of steeped tea and porcelain bits. Grabbing his wand, he sent all the broken pieces to the rubbish bin and vanished the brown stain on his wall.

Throwing himself down on the sofa, Zacharias glanced over at the folded blankets. On top sat an envelope. He reached over and picked it up. It was addressed to him, with a full address. The postal stamp on it was from five years ago and scrawled across the front was his own handwriting: _Return to Sender_.

The last card she sent him.

Zacharias turned the envelope over and over in his hands, staring at it. With a sigh, he tore it open and pulled out the card. The front was decorated with holly and snow that magically fluttered across the paper. Inside was a letter.

_13 December 2003_

_Zach,_

_I wish you'd write me back. Or at least give me a sign that you're still at least interested in what I have to say when I write you. I know it isn't often and really I should write more..._

_I don't know what to do. You see, I've been seeing Neville Longbottom for the last few months and it was all well and fine. It got my mind off of things for a little while. A distraction, you know? And then the next thing I know is that he says he's fallen in love with me. Me! And now I'm completely lost because he's gone and slipped his Gran's ring on my finger and asked me to marry him._

_I guess I like him, but there's always been someone else. Sometimes I wonder if you'll ever come around because to be quite honest, I think I've loved you since fifth year and even though you don't speak to me or write me or are in any way in contact with me, I still can't help what I feel. I only wish I'd had the courage (goes to show I was never cut out for Gryffindor) to tell you to your face, but I didn't. _

_And stupid me. I let you go._

_I want... I need you to tell me that this whole thing with Neville is a bad idea. Everyone else is so happy about it, but (believe it or not) I can't actually make up my mind because of this feeling I still have for you. Maybe you could come back to England and we could just talk or maybe you're already married to some Norwegian beauty that I don't know about and me confessing everything in a letter is just plain stupid. But I... can't switch it off. And I think somewhere deep inside Neville knows that I have my heart invested elsewhere. I think maybe he's just waiting to see if he can win me over in time._

_I don't know if he can._

_Maybe there's a possibility you're not terrified by this letter. But I just need to know if I'm wishing on a dream._

_Please. Just write me back. Even if you don't want me to ever mention what I've just written. I miss you._

_Love,  
Hannah-B_

*~*~*~*

_24 December 2008_

"So are you going to explain yourself?" Pansy Parkinson stood between Zacharias and the lift, fists pressed against her hips.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, Parkinson. In case you hadn't realised... You and I... We're not friends!" He tried to move around her, but she whipped out her wand and jabbed him in the chest. She certainly had balls. Pulling a wand on a Ministry official inside the building without either a medical or defensive reason, was punishable by time in the holding cells in the basement. Pansy didn't look at all concerned.

"Theodore told me everything. He always tells me everything. And if you're going to end up being someone that he actually cares about, and for that I have no idea why, then I have to be the one to smack you around when you are being an ass!" She backed him up against the wall.

Zacharias had met with Theodore shortly after Hannah had disappeared. The two had shared drinks and conversation and Zacharias had shown the Slytherin Hannah's old letter. There had been many "hmmm's" and a couple of "I see's" but no real answer. Theodore had proposed that perhaps Hannah's feelings were still strong. After all she did keep the letter for five years, didn't she? Zacharias came out of the conversation with about as much clarity as he'd gone into it.

"She told you she was separated from Longbottom. And that she forgives you. _And_ that she loves you." Pansy lowered her wand and slipped it back into her sleeve. "So why are you still here?"

"Mind your own business, Parkinson."

"No! Because you don't understand what this is about. This is about her and the fact that you don't know when to just shut up and look at what is right in front of you. Telling you what exactly you're supposed to do. Right now it just happens to be me saying _Stop being an idiot_ but four days ago it was her telling you to love her back!"

A small clapping sound came from behind them, Zacharias looked over his shoulder and saw Astrid standing in the doorway applauding. He glared at her. "You're fired!"

Astrid chuckled and lay her jacket over her arm, passing by the two of them on her way to the lift. "You can't fire me, Mr Smith, I'm off the clock and what I applaud in my free time is not a termination offence." She pressed the call button and the doors slid open. "Listen to this woman. And then go to England and beg."

Zacharias wasn't used to this. He wasn't used to women yelling at him or telling him what to do. Alright he was used to Pansy trying to tell him what to do, but he wasn't used to her making sense at all or him wanting to actually listen to her. He leaned against the wall and slid down until he was seated on the floor. At the beginning of the month his life had made sense to him. Yes, as Hannah had said, he only worked and went home. Occasionally he would have supper with the Slytherins, but she'd pretty much hit the nail on the head.

He didn't know that he wanted it to change until he was given the opportunity.

And he'd been too afraid or maybe too blind or maybe just too idiotic to take it.

Pansy crouched delicately in front of him. "Look, Smith. I don't really like you. You're a boorish Hufflepuff with next to no class or breeding. You slurp your soup and you don't know the difference between a Pinot Gris or a Riesling. But the funny thing is... I don't like seeing good love go to waste and I _don't_ like seeing women who are ready, willing and able to give away that good love just thrown aside."

Zacharias looked at her and wondered if she was still talking about Hannah or if she was making reference to how she'd been thrown aside by Malfoy. He wasn't about to ask and the look on her face said that she really wasn't about to tell him. He pushed himself up off the floor and stepped around her.

"If she throws me out on my ear, I'm coming back to strangle you," he said dryly.

"You do that, Smith."

*~*

The thing about trying to travel between countries at the last minute on Christmas Eve is that one really can't without resorting to some pretty undesirable things. This meant that instead of a nice quick portkey or a temporary international Floo connection, Zacharias had to resort to theft. Though he didn't mean for it to be permanent and he did leave a note saying that the broom would be returned as soon as possible to the Norwegian office Quidditch team. And he left his name. And he figured he probably had a little bit of time since the Ministry didn't return to work until after New Years.

The flight to England had been cold as hell. Even with repeated warming charms, by the time he touched down in the alley outside of the Leaky Cauldron, he was pretty well froze through. Somewhere beyond the tall buildings, he could hear a church bell ring in the last forty-five minutes of Christmas Eve. Thank god for a one hour time change.

The front door to the Leaky Cauldron was locked. Zacharias tried an _Alohomora_ on the off chance that a simple unlocking charm would get around a proprietary ward. His luck wasn't so good.

So he tried brute force and started banging his fist on the heavy wooden door. "Hey! Hey, open up! Hannah! Hannah, I need to talk to you!"

Minutes passed and he wondered if perhaps he was just going to freeze outside and this was all a waste and he never should have come and Parkinson was wrong about everything. Then the door opened a crack.

"Zach, what are you doing here?" Hannah stared at him, clutching a knitted afghan around her shoulders.

"Same reason you came to Norway. I wanted to see if you were well." The side of his mouth raised partway.

A hurt expression came onto her face. "Don't," she said. "Don't make this anymore of a mess than it already is. Especially now. It's Christmas." She started to shut the door, but Zacharias shot out his foot to keep it from closing and winced when the heavy oak bonked against his foot.

"Wait. You can't just... Hannah you left me a letter."

"It was from five years ago." She looked down at her feet. "I pretty much got my answer, didn't I?"

"Nope!" Zacharias leaned on the door pushing it. His weight was no match for hers and the whole thing swung open, letting cold and snow swirl into the warm room. He propped his foot against the more open entry way and dug around in his pocket until he found a crumpled piece of paper which he started to unfold.

"Zach please," Hannah pleaded quietly.

"Did I ever tell you that you're the only person I know who calls me Zach?" He said as he flattened the paper against his chest before holding it up. "Sorry. This letter's kind of been through a lot." He cleared his throat and held the paper aloft, even going so far as to mime spectacles that needed to be adjusted. 

" _Hannah-Banana. I think I love you too._ "

Hannah's shawl fell to the floor.

Zacharias tilted his head. "That's all I have, actually." He flipped the paper around. It was blank. "Look, I didn't even need to write it down. And I know I was an idiot. And I _know_ I'm a little late and this has all been really sudden, but I think I've loved you for a long time or maybe I just fell into it when you appeared on my doorstep. All I do know is that I stupidly let you go four days ago after I let you go years before and I'm not going to let you go again." He took a breath. "Parkinson will probably kick my arse if I do."

"She'll have to get in line." Hannah said, crossing the threshold and throwing her arms around his neck, meeting his lips with her own.

There was music the last time he'd kissed Hannah Abbott. Carols sung softly from the street outside his flat. He wanted to say it was like fireworks, and it almost was, but it was more than that. And there were bells. As midnight chimed, so did every church in the city, ringing in Christmas day with joyous peals of sound. Hannah's lips were warm, almost as joyous, and Zacharias held her tight against him until he was sure she wasn't going to leave. He didn't care about separated versus divorced. He didn't care that there were flakes of snow melting in his collar and dripping down his back. He cared about one thing.

And that was the way her mouth was on his.

At the beginning of the month, Zacharias would have never expected this sort of thing to happen. He would have said that he was going to be a confirmed bachelor because there really wasn't room in his life, meagre that it was, for anything permanent.

But this? This changed everything.

And when he picked her up, scooping his arms under her knees without breaking the kiss, Zacharias, who was always and only Zach to Hannah-Banana, was pretty sure this was going to be a repeated move with them.


End file.
